Meanwhile, in Gotham, home of the caped crusader...
Friday, May 26th, 2017
14:37 GMT-5 (19:37 GMT May 26th)
Gotham City, Uptown
Channel Park
Twelve-year-old Aiden Maxwell was enjoying his afternoon in the park.
He always enjoyed fresh air and Wayne Manor could often get rather stuffy. However, it was not just the fresh air, which was invigorating the boy, it was also the stunning sights. No, not the view of Gotham City's skyline to the south on Midtown, it was more the small group of girls who were sitting on the grass enjoying the sun and chattering amongst themselves.
The problem with being home-schooled was that the boy had extraordinarily little contact with other kids his own age. He did see other kids, and he had a few friends who he often met up with in the city, but they were all male – and the boy craved female interaction. Once or twice, he had caught sight of a new girl, who had only appeared in Gotham about one month previously. She was called Barbara and she had just turned thirteen. They both got on well – on the three occasions where they had spoken, at least. Barbara was a redhead; actually, a copper redhead – was it natural? He had yet to find out...
The boy felt his stomach squirming as he saw Barbara looking in his direction, then he felt himself blushing as one of her friends glanced over at Aiden and then whispered something to Barbara to which both girls giggled loudly. Then Aiden felt extremely uncomfortable as Barbara got up and walked over towards him.
"Hello, Aiden."
"Hi, er Barbara."
"May I join you?"
"Of course, . . . yes."
There was silence for several minutes as they both sat on the grass in the sun.
"You're looking good," Aiden ventured.
"Thanks," Barbara said, her cheeks turning pink at the comment.
Barbara was slim and 'nicely equipped' as Aiden thought of it. Her hair was long and kept in a ponytail high on her head. Her skin was of a pale complexion with a light smattering of freckles. Her eyes were a piercing emerald green which had captivated Aiden almost immediately when he had first seen them. It was obvious that the girl worked out as there was barely a trace of fat on her and what remained appeared to be muscle.
"Where do you live?" Aiden ventured.
"I live with my cousin in the Palisades. You?"
"Er, I live in the Palisades, too. Where did you come from, before . . . er, Gotham?"
"I lived in Pittsburgh with my Mom, but then . . . well, something happened to her, so I moved to Gotham."
"By choice?" Aiden asked.
Barbara laughed.
"I know, nobody comes to Gotham by choice . . . but I have some unfinished business to take care of here."
"Okay."
"I like spending time with you, Aiden."
Aiden's mouth flapped as the boy found himself lost for words. Barbara noticed the boy's confusion and she grinned sheepishly.
"You heard about the new vigilante in town?" Aiden asked, keen to change the subject.
"You mean the girl vigilante?" Barbara asked.
"Yeah, she seems to be calling herself Batgirl. Quite a cheek if you ask me," Aiden responded.
"Maybe she got permission from Batman?" Barbara said.
"I suppose," Aiden responded, knowing full well that Batman had not given his permission for someone to syphon off his identity.
"I think she's cool, to be honest," Barbara stated for the record.
"Actually, er, so do I," Aiden admitted.
The pair lapsed into silence as they enjoyed the warm weather.
Three weeks earlier...
Saturday, May 6th
19:15 GMT-5 (00:15 GMT May 7th)
Gotham City, Midtown
It had been a night out, just like any other.
They were atop a set of high-rise buildings, gazing down on Cale Street which ran along Gotham River. They were able to look across to the Midtown Bridge, and in the distance, the tip of the Narrows. Then something caught Catwoman's eyes as she turned to look towards Wayne Tower to the northeast.
"What the fuck was that?" she called out.
"What?" Batman enquired, turning to look in the same direction.
"I saw something atop one of the buildings . . . there!"
"I got it!" Nightwing exclaimed. "It's . . . got a cape!"
"A vigilante?" Batman enquired.
"Let's go find out," Catwoman said as she ran and jumped across to the next building.
All three ran in the direction of the caped whatever.
..._...
It took them almost forty minutes to catch up with whatever it was.
They found it in an alleyway, between Tream Street and Leser Street, just off Gate Boulevard. Apparently, it was a vigilante, and apparently, it was preventing a mugging. As they watched, the caped vigilante moved slowly through the darkness towards where two men were shaking down a smartly dressed couple.
"Wallet, purse . . . now!"
The man and the woman were shaking with fear as their eyes stared at the vicious knives the two men held in their direction. Feverously, the man dug in his jacket for his wallet while his wife did her best to keep hold of her purse which was ripped from her, the strap snapping easily.
"Scum!" came a coarse voice out of the darkness and the two men span around.
"What the fuck?" one of the men demanded as something stepped out of the darkness.
The something wore black from head to toe – a suit of some kind. The lower legs were encased in dull yellow greaves which extended down to boots of the same colour. The lower arms of the suit were covered in long gauntlets of the same dull yellow colour. A dull yellow utility belt was fitted around the waist. The head of the person was encased in a cowl mask which extended down as far as the bridge of the nose, surrounding the eyes. Ears, very reminiscent of those that belonged to bats finished off the mask from which copious amounts of deep red hair hung down the caped back.
Neither of the two men knew what hit them as the vigilante easily put them down, ignoring the knives. It took just seconds for the scene to be resolved. After the vigilante had spoken to them, the couple picked up their belongings and fled the scene as quickly as their legs could take them. Moments later, a GCPD patrol car appeared at the end of the alleyway, and the vigilante bolted, but not before they saw the emblem on the chest of the suit – it was a dull yellow bat, matching that worn by Batman.
Batman moved towards the end of the alleyway and he looked down on where the couple were being spoken to by the GCPD.
"Did the vigilante identify themselves?" a police officer asked the couple.
"She called herself Batgirl."
Batgirl!
Saturday, May 27th
20:16 GMT-5 (01:16 GMT May 28th)
Gotham City, Midtown
GCPD Headquarters
Atop the roof, two men stood in the drizzle.
"Couldn't we just have used the phone, Jim?"
"He'll come," Lieutenant Jim Gordon muttered as cold rain dripped off his head.
"My burrito's all soggy," Sergeant Harvey Bullock went on.
Out of nowhere, there came a whooshing sound, and something struck the concrete which towered above the two police officers with a metallic thunk.
"Somebody call?" a voice asked out of the darkness and Gordon turned away from the giant floodlight with the bat appendage which shone a thousand feet into the Gotham sky to find three people sliding out of the darkness.
"Well," Harvey chuckled, "if it isn't the Bat, the Cat, and the Brat!"
"Hey!" Nightwing growled as he dropped to the ground from the zip wire behind Catwoman and Batman.
"Yes, we called," Gordon said, as he stepped inside the doorway which led down into the GCPD. "Nygma – well, one of Nygma's flunkies, actually, he was brought in, just this evening. The man offered up an envelope."
Batman took the envelope which was a pale green with dozens of black question marks scattered all over it in a seemingly haphazard fashion.
"Inside, is a riddle, from the Riddler," Bullock threw in, just to speed things along.
Batman opened the envelope and he removed a single piece of card, the same green as the envelope was but with the black question marks only on one side. The opposite side, was plain apart from a neatly typed riddle:
I am a plum lassie from the state numbered Scandium, who
seeks the fury of that charged with the numbers forty-five
and eight, I am. Who am I, and what part of the small male
child does our plum lassie need to procure to save us all?
"What is that crap about?" Nightwing asked as he peered around Batman.
"Could be simple, could be hard," Catwoman reasoned. "It is Nygma. But why call us?"
"We decoded a part of it," Gordon explained. "Plum – can be seen as purple. Scandium is the 21st element of the Periodic Table and, coincidentally, the 21st state of the USA is Illinois..."
"Chicago is in Illinois," Catwoman cut in. "And there is a certain purple vigilante in Chicago."
"You see why I called you," Gordon commented.
"Holy shit!" Nightwing exclaimed.
"We'll be in touch," Batman said.
"Fancy a burrito?" Bullock asked the darkness. "Where the fuck . . . have they gone!?"
Gordon simply chuckled as he shut down the bat-signal and headed down to his office.
21:05 GMT-6 (03:05 GMT May 28th)
Glenview, Chicago
"Hello, how may I direct your call?"
"That little Anne-Marie?"
"Who may I ask is calling?"
"It's Cat."
"Hi, Cat!" Anne-Marie exclaimed. "Do you want Mom?"
"Yes, please."
"MOM!" Anne-Marie bellowed. "PHONE!"
"For the love of...!" Mindy exclaimed as she grabbed the phone off the nine-year-old.
"It's Cat," Anne-Marie said just before she vanished from sight.
"How is Gotham, Cat?"
"Getting creepier, if I'm honest."
"Sounds about right," Mindy chuckled. "What can I do for you?"
"We have a riddle to solve."
"A riddle?"
"By riddle, I mean a real riddle, written by our very own Riddler."
"Why me?"
"You were mentioned in the opening lines."
"Just what I always wanted," Mindy growled. "Okay, I can fly up for tomorrow afternoon."
"Bring your kit – we'll treat you to a night on the town . . . Gotham style."
"Sounds like fun," Mindy offered dubiously. "See you then – say hello to Bruce, Alfred, and Aiden for me."
"I will . . . night, Mindy."
"What was that about?" Dave asked as Mindy set the phone down.
"Fancy a trip to hell?"
"Gotham? Why the hell not!"
"Can we come?" Stephanie asked, surrounded by Jamie, Danny, and Anne-Marie.
Mindy simply shrugged.
"Looks like a Lizewski family outing to Gotham City," Dave chuckled.
There was a lot of cheering – more than might normally be expected for a simple trip to hell.
The following afternoon...
Sunday, May 28th
14:00 GMT-5 (19:00 GMT May 28th)
Gotham International Airport
Gotham City
"I am so depressed, right now," Stephanie stated. "I never wanted to see this shithole again – ever..."
"We never wanted to come back, either," Danny stated for the record.
"Me, neither," Anne-Marie added. "But we're both glad to have you with us, Steph."
"What about me?" Jamie growled.
"You too, I suppose," Anne-Marie said, as she gave Jamie a hug.
"Be careful, Jamie – you don't know where she's been," Dave chuckled as he strode past the kids.
"I do know where she's been and it's not pleasant," Mindy laughed as she followed on, close behind her husband.
Anne-Marie scowled at Dave.
..._...
Waiting at the bottom of the air stairs, Alfred Pennyworth grinned as he held open the rear door of the Rolls Royce Phantom.
"Welcome to Gotham, Mr and Mrs Lizewski. You may travel with me, while the rabble will travel with Miss Selina who has just passed her driving test . . . God help us all!"
Selina was standing beside a small, dark grey, Audi A3 sedan, and looking incredibly pleased with herself. Alfred placed most of the luggage into the capacious trunk of the Phantom while a few bags were placed in the Audi. All the kids piled into the Audi with Stephanie in the front passenger seat.
"I'd belt up, if I were you," Cat warned with an evil grin as she started the engine.
Though the ride was not long, it was spirited!
A spirited drive later...
14:18 GMT-5 (19:18 GMT May 28th)
Wayne Manor
The stone edifice of Wayne Manor soon appeared as Cat raced up the sweeping drive – and not a moment too soon.
With a flourish, Cat slewed to a halt on the loose gravel. Nobody needed prompting as they rapidly dove out of the vehicle for the perceived safety of the drive where they were met by their host.
"You made it alive, I see," Bruce commented dryly as Cat climbed out, grinning broadly.
"Compared to Cat, Mindy drives like a bloody old woman," Stephanie complained.
"The girl does have a bit to learn," Alfred conceded. "However, she can be as stubborn as Master Bruce, so I have no idea how long that extra learning is going to take."
"Thank you, Alfred," Cat responded with a sly grin. "I learnt everything from you."
Alfred frowned as he vanished into the Manor.
That night...
19:10 GMT-5 (00:10 GMT May 29th)
The Bat Cave
The team from Fusion had been provided with special 'Gotham' body armour for the occasion.
The entire family were clad from head to toe in the matte black body armour. The masks were full face, and each bore coloured markings unique to the wearer. For Kick-Ass, there were yellow and green markings which extended down to the chest armour. For Hit Girl, purple highlighted the accents on her mask and upper body armour. For Psyche, royal blue was used to accent her armour. Rage bore broader blue markings while Ravage bore orange accents to his armour. That just left Rogue whose armour bore scarlet markings.
"These are really cool," Rage commented as he checked out a carbon-fibre bō-staff which bore the same coloured markings as his suit.
"I think I look good in this," Psyche decided as she checked herself out in the mirror.
"Why would you care?" Rogue teased. "It's not like Tommy's here . . . ow!"
"Psyche!" Kick-Ass commented. "The staff is for hitting criminals, not for hitting your little sister – even if she does deserve it."
Ravage laughed.
"Okay, we done?" Hit Girl asked as she stowed her purple Glock 23 Gen4 .40-calibre pistols into her holsters which hung from her deep purple utility belt.
The group moved on to find their transport.
..._...
They moved into the main section of the Bat Cave.
"What the fuck is that!?" Hit Girl demanded as she laid eyes on five metres of pure automotive perfection.
The vehicle was over two metres in width but only 1.2-metres in height with a monster rear wing. Overall, the monster was matt black and sat on nineteen-inch tyres over a foot wide at the front and much wider at the rear. The two occupants sat just inches from the rear wheels, the steeply raked windscreen sloping down to the long and beautifully sculptured bonnet.
"Is that a Vulcan?" Kick-Ass asked incredulously.
"It's a Brit," Batman confirmed. "Aston Martin Vulcan – I bought a pair; anonymously of course. This one is heavily modified – Kevlar armour and reinforcements for the carbon-fibre bodywork and raised suspension among other things. Over eight-hundred horses under the hood – a seven-litre naturally-aspirated V12 engine. It'll hit sixty in just three seconds and take you to over two-twenty miles-per-hour."
Dave laughed at the expression on his wife's face.
"Speed!" Hit Girl hissed. "Power!"
"Down girl!" Catwoman grinned. "These are for you."
All attention turned to a quartet of motorcycles arranged side by side at the side of the cave.
Two almost identical motorcycles sat as a pair – both were matt black but with differently coloured highlights: one was royal blue, the other navy blue. The Ducati Scramblers were fitted with Pirelli Scorpion Rally ST tyres which also provided unprecedented off-road ability. Both machines were fitted with additional carbon-fibre panels to protect the engine and the rider's legs from frontal impact. The motorcycles were both fitted with an 803-cc air-cooled engine producing 75-bhp with a decent amount of low-down torque. The design was based on the 2017 Desert Sled machine which incorporated additional features for enhanced durability. Those machines were obviously for Psyche and Rage.
The next machine up was a veritable monster – a Ducati Monster 1200 S to be precise. The 1,198-cc engine produced 150-bhp and the entire machine weighed in at 214-kilogrammes with the added carbon-fibre composite armour to protect the matt black machine with green and yellow highlights on the frame and fuel tank. Without need for coaxing, Kick-Ass moved to stand beside his machine.
That just left the drooling Hit Girl as she stepped towards the one machine which easily qualified as sex on two wheels. Carefully, and full of reverence, Hit Girl ran her gauntleted hand over the seventeen-litre fuel tank, her mind filling with the specifications of the machine beneath her fingertips. The 190-kilogramme machine was built with a Superquadro, L-twin-cylinder 8-valve 1,285-cc Desmodromic liquid-cooled engine producing 205-bhp 10,500-rpm. Her hands followed the smooth curves of the body, the seat, and the flared back end. The matt black machine was highlighted in purple with the all important 'HG' markings on either side of the front end.
"I think she might need to change her panties before we leave," Psyche pointed out.
Hit Girl ignored the obnoxious child as she swung a long slender leg across the Ducati 1299 Panigale S, settling into the seat as she pulled on her all-black helmet. The engine started with a smooth purr, gently throbbing before angrily roaring as Hit Girl impatiently revved the engine. Not to be outdone, Batman climbed into his Vulcan, and he started the seven-litre engine which roared for a moment as the fuel system was primed before it rumbled into life. As Catwoman slipped in beside Batman, Kick-Ass, Psyche, and Rage started their own engines. Ravage was seated behind Kick-Ass while Rogue was seated behind Psyche.
Alfred hit the button to open up the vehicle tunnel leading out of the cave, and the Batmobile raced forward, accelerating into the gaping maw of the tunnel, closely followed by Hit Girl, then Rage, then Psyche and Rogue, and finally Kick-Ass with Ravage.
Midtown
19:48 GMT-5 (00:48 GMT May 29th)
Eighteen minutes later, the towering edifices which formed Gate Boulevard echoed with the sound of pure automotive power as an awesome array of horsepower pushed through the evening traffic.
All attention was drawn to the convoy of matte black vehicles led by the never-before-seen monster which led the four motorcycles. GCPD cops simply waved as the non-road-legal supercar passed by with a roar of large-bore exhausts. To any petrolhead within a mile, the throbbing display of horsepower was an extreme turn on, even before you threw in the extreme lines of Hit Girl in her combat suit which was a totally different type of turn on – or not. Either way, if you enjoyed women with curves or the throb of mighty engines, you were in for a treat which would have you cumming and cumming...
"So, the Batman has decided to try out the Batmobile," Lucius Fox commented over the radio.
"I thought that it would be good to try it out with Hit Girl in the city," Batman responded. "I like to show that I have more power than she does."
"Is that so?" Hit Girl retorted. "Is that seven-litre monstrosity making up for a lack of size elsewhere, may I ask?"
"Oh, no," Catwoman grinned. "Batman has plenty where it matters."
"If it fills Catwoman's mouth, then it must be big!" Psyche declared.
There was a lot of laughter and the almost fifteen-year-old Batman suddenly felt rather hot under his mask, all of a sudden.
..._...
They took a right down Montgomery Avenue before they pulled up at the edge of Saint Mary's Park, across from the Gotham City Opera House over to the southwest and The Narrows to the south.
"This place is really creepy," Rogue commented as she dismounted from behind Psyche.
"She has a point," Psyche agreed.
The park was dark with limited illumination along the tarmacked walkways. Some of the lights flickered while others were out. A thin mist drifted in from the Gotham River adding to the nighttime eeriness of the park.
"I think it's kind of homely," Catwoman commented as she climbed out of the Batmobile.
"You're just damaged in the head," Batman countered.
"Probably," Catwoman agreed as her keen eyes peered into the misty darkness. "Oh, hell!" she growled.
"Well, hello!" a voice purred out of the mists.
"What do you want, Harley?" Catwoman asked in a bored tone, although Hit Girl detected a hint of jealousy.
"Who are your friends?" the woman persisted as her eyes moved from Hit Girl to Kick-Ass and then onto the shorter vigilantes.
"Fuck... Guys, this is Harley Quinn; another Gotham wacko," Catwoman offered as an introduction.
"And dressing up as a bat and a cat isn't wacko?" Harley Quinn challenged as she stepped towards Kick-Ass. "Well, hello, handsome . . . ooh, was that a growl?" Harley looked directly at Hit Girl for a moment before she spoke again. "I know who you are?" Harley grinned. "You're Hit Girl . . . which makes this magnificent hunk, Kick-Ass!"
Hit Girl continued to growl as her eyes moved over the interloper's body.
Harley Quinn was dressed in a multi-coloured ensemble consisting of leather pants – the left leg of which was a medium red with the right a dark blue. Her open leather jacket – with the same opposing arms as the pants – came down to mid-abdomen exposing a black and red bustier as well as plenty of skin at her waist and above her breasts. Around her neck, a plain black choker was secured. Her face was fully made up and very white. Her left eye had the makeup of mock blue tears exploding out the side while the right bore a pink version. On her right cheek, a black love heart, half an inch wide existed. Her hair was a pale blonde, mostly. Twin ponytails, the left dyed a pale turquoise and the right a washed-out pink, were secured with the same colouring of band. Her lips were a luscious red while her deep blue eyes were heavily made up to form a mask of sorts. Around her waist, a brown leather belt supported a pair of leather pistol holsters secured to her upper thighs. The white and gold butt ends for a pair of custom Chiappa Rhino 60DS revolvers chambered in .40-calibre Smith & Wesson peeped out the top of the holsters. In her right hand, she casually held onto a wooden baseball bat – inscribed 'Good Night' along its length – which was laid nonchalantly across her right shoulder.
Hit Girl felt an overwhelming urge to cram her fist into Quinn's smirking mug.
..._...
While Hit Girl savoured taking down Quinn, a voice called out as a man appeared from the darkness.
"Ah, good evening."
"Nygma," Batman stated for the record.
The man was snappily dressed in a green suit readily embellished with black question marks in varying sizes, positions, and orientations. Beneath the jacket, a black waistcoat with green checks covered a silken black shirt with a black tie. The tie was dotted in white in a uniform pattern with a silver tiepin in the form of a question mark. His hands wore black gloves while his feet were encased in a pair of black leather boots and his outfit was topped off with a deep green velvet bowler hat. On his nose, he wore a pair of gold-framed spectacles with oval octagonal lenses tinted green.
"So, this is The Riddler, huh?" Hit Girl asked.
"And you must be the Purple Queen," Nygma responded with a deep theatrical bow.
"So," Rage said. "What do you do? What does a Riddler do?"
Nygma peered down his nose at the boy for a moment before he responded.
"You saw me where I never was and where I could not be. And yet within that very place, my face you often see. What am I?" Nygma said smoothly.
"That's easy," Rogue responded. "A reflection."
"Easy, you say, youngster?" Nygma chuckled. "What does every woman have that starts with a 'V' and that she can use to get what she wants?"
"I'm starting not to like you," Hit Girl growled.
"Hey," Nygma offered in a defensive tone. "It's not what your dirty minds are conjuring up!"
"Voice," Psyche hissed. "Here's one for you: My first is in idealistic but not in ecclesiastic. My second is in occupational but not in cantaloupe. My third is in transcription but not in transpiration. My fourth is in crookedness but not in condenser. What are you?"
Nygma laughed out loud within ten seconds.
"You think I'm a dick? You may well be right, Psyche."
"I get it," Rage commented. "You're a dick who likes to confuse people with reams of crap rather than just coming out with simple fucking sentences."
"He's right," Quinn pointed out.
Nygma waved his left hand in an irrelevant manner.
"Enough of this bullshit, Riddler!" Hit Girl growled. "What the fuck is it you want?"
"The person you seek will only speak with you, Hit Girl," Nygma explained. "They came to me to see if I could assist in getting you both together."
"Your riddle concerned a nuclear device, so you know that you are stepping into some serious shit. Why are you helping us?"
"Because, I don't want someone detonating something so hazardous as an atomic weapon in my city," Nygma explained. "When I found out was happening, I figured that Gotham, being one of the top ten largest cities in North America, would be a target. And I wasn't going to stand for that."
It was a plausible enough explanation, but Hit Girl knew that Nygma could not be trusted.
China Docks
Downtown
21:20 GMT-5 (02:20 GMT May 29th)
The building was beyond dilapidated and, at least to Hit Girl's eyes, was in desperate need of a wrecking ball or a block of C4.
The area was slated for redevelopment, but no takers had come forward with the millions required to demolish the old and rebuild the area into a thriving residential district. Nygma was there, waiting for them but there was no sign of Quinn.
"You know this is going to be a trap," Psyche mentioned to Hit Girl as they dismounted from their motorcycles.
"Of course," Hit Girl responded, wishing she were wrong.
Nygma waved Hit Girl forward but raised a hand to the others.
"Hit Girl only."
"Bullshit!" Psyche exclaimed.
"You can go with Hit Girl," Nygma conceded. "But nobody else!"
Hit Girl knew that she was taking an enormous risk, but if the information was good, then she had to try. Besides, Kick-Ass would be outside should there be any problems. Nygma led the pair inside the derelict warehouse and they climbed a set of concrete steps to the second floor before they paused outside a doorway which led deeper into the warehouse.
"She's in that room," Nygma stated simply as he stepped to one side, waving the pair forward theatrically.
Psyche was worried, very worried, as they stepped forward.
..._...
Hit Girl and Psyche stepped into the room, ignoring the grinning Nygma.
Almost immediately, both sensed a trap and they spun to find Nygma still grinning as a steel door slammed shut, blocking their escape. They then turned again as a light snapped on at the far end of the room before them. Beneath their masks, all blood drained from their faces as they laid eyes on a face neither had seen in six months. Instantly, Psyche drew her twin SIG Sauer P225-A1 Nitron Compact pistols and she snapped off four rounds from each pistol before she stopped, her eyes flaring a deep royal blue. The bullets from her pistols had travelled just six feet before smashing against what appeared to be floor to ceiling ballistic glass which effectively cut the room in two. Beyond the now rather scarred barrier, the grinning face of Summer Frasier AKA Sunset Phoenix made Hit Girl and Psyche even angrier.
"Hello, Hit Girl," Frasier grinned from beyond the barrier.
"So, you've been hiding in this fucking shit hole, huh?" Hit Girl growled as her eyes tracked across the glass seeking out a weakness.
"Where else can somebody as hunted as me hide without attracting too much attention? Besides, I needed to start from scratch, considering my home is gone and all my money is frozen."
"Why?" Hit Girl demanded. "Why do you want to help us?"
"I want to help myself. What would you do to prevent nuclear Armageddon? Anything?"
"Anything, I suppose," Hit Girl responded . . . with a caveat. "Within reason."
"Would you trade Stephanie Walker for my information?"
"Not a fucking chance!"
"You'd risk millions of lives for the sake of one insignificant little bitch?"
Hit Girl was having trouble controlling her anger. Her fists were hurting as she scrunched them tightly. In her mind, there was a battle going on. Deep down, a part of her knew that it was a bargain - assuming the information was huge. Only, she would never risk Stephanie's life – NEVER!
"Okay, I never thought you'd go for that," Frasier acknowledged with a shrug of her shoulders. "But I have no desire to die in a nuclear nightmare, either, so while I still want to rip that bitch apart, I also want to live a bit longer. Annoyingly, you have a proven habit of succeeding in everything you do; therefore, I know that if you go after these bastards who seem determined to shatter the world we live in, you will succeed."
"You have information for me?" Hit Girl pushed, somewhat impatiently.
Frasier held up a large brown envelope.
"In here, is the intel you need."
She threw the envelope to the floor.
"However, I am not about to make it easy for you."
"No fucking surprise," Hit Girl growled back.
Then Harley Quinn appeared from a doorway at the far end of the room, beyond the glass. The woman walked across the room and she held up a device to the glass. It was a timer and the red LED numbers were counting down...
... 38 ... 37 ... 36 ... 35 ...
Hit Girl saw Quinn looking pointedly at the floor beneath their feet and with a flurry of understanding, Hit Girl looked down at the floor. She and Psyche both stood within a large rectangle marked out with red tape.
"Bye, bye!" Quinn said with a wave as she dropped the timer to the floor.
... 10 ... 09 ... 08 ... 07 ...
There was nothing either of them could do except brace themselves for the explosion when it came.
... 03 ... 02 ... 01 ... 00 ...
For what felt like an aeon, nothing happened, then came the recognisable crack of detcord all around them.
"Hang on, girl!" Hit Girl yelled as the floor fell out from beneath them and they began to fall.
"Hang onto what!?" Psyche exclaimed as she fell.
Outside...
21:12 GMT-5 (02:12 GMT May 29th)
Kick-Ass heard the sounds of explosives and he looked around for the source.
There came a rumbling sound from within the warehouse followed by a large cloud of dust which billowed out of the windows which had not seen glazing in over a decade. Kick-Ass led the charge into the building, angry that he had allowed Hit Girl to go in virtually alone. As they entered the warehouse, they found their way blocked by a steel door, but there was an open passageway to their right.
"You know that they want us to go that way?" Rage growled angrily.
"Do we have a choice?" Kick-Ass countered.
"No," Rage conceded as he raised his H&K P30SK Compact pistol and moved off down the passageway.
Once Rogue and Ravage had followed on, their own pistols raised, Kick-Ass took up the rear-guard.
..._...
Rogue was upset that two members of her family were missing, but she was also incredibly angry that someone would dare to attack them.
She felt little fear as she had her two brothers and her dad with her, so she knew that she was perfectly safe. Her eyes followed the sights on her pistol as she swept the right side of the corridor. Ravage was doing the same to the left side. All she could see was darkness, and she knew full well that out of the darkness came danger – usually Hit Girl, but in Gotham it could be anyone or anything. Suddenly, something lunged out at Rogue and she snapped off two bullets before she paused and studied whatever it was.
"Nice shooting, Rogue," Rage commented. "You just killed a mattress."
"Fuck!" Rogue growled.
"Those bastards are fucking with us," Rage growled as he went back on point.
"That Quinn's a joker," Ravage commented. "She obviously doesn't take life very seriously."
"I agree," Kick-Ass commented. "Let's move on."
For another five minutes, they followed the passageway which curved to the left before stopping at a doorway. Rage paused to allow the others to get into position before he slowly peered around the doorframe. He saw nothing but darkness. As he stepped through the doorway, the room beyond was suddenly bathed in purple light from three spotlights arranged in the centre of the floor, pointing upward.
"What does this mean?" Rage queried.
"It means that somebody is having a fucking laugh!"
"Hit Girl!" Rage exclaimed as he saw a dusty Hit Girl appear in the light. "Psyche!"
"Hello, had a fun stroll through Harley's funhouse?" Kick-Ass chuckled.
"Fucking hilarious!" Hit Girl responded.
"We need to get a sodding brown envelope from the floor above," an equally dusty Psyche pointed out.
"Are either of you hurt?" Kick-Ass asked.
"Just my ego," Hit Girl replied evenly.
"No problem there," Psyche quipped. "It's big enough to absorb a lot of damage."
"Funny bitch!" Hit Girl growled as she pushed Psyche forward towards another doorway which headed deeper into the warehouse.
Kick-Ass remained at the back, watching over his family, pleased that they were back together again.
Batman & Catwoman
21:18 GMT-5 (02:18 GMT May 29th)
As soon as Kick-Ass had vanished inside the warehouse with Rage, Rogue, and Ravage, the Gotham Vigilantes began to climb the warehouse, making for the upper levels.
"Nygma double crossed us," Catwoman hissed as they climbed up a decrepit fire escape.
"Are you surprised?" Batman responded.
"No. It's just that Harley gets under my skin."
"You let her."
"I do not!"
"I think we should have this conversation later."
"Okay."
At the third floor, Batman kicked in a fire door which fell apart and dropped from its hinges. The pair headed inside and Catwoman grinned beneath her mask.
"Hello, Harley!"
"Shit!" Harley Quinn exclaimed as she saw who was coming and she bolted away from the two vigilantes, making for an internal set of concrete steps not too far away.
The woman with a fancy for all that was freaky laughed hysterically as she ran, enjoying the adrenalin rush associated with being hunted. She knew that she got on Catwoman's wick, and that was a turn on for Quinn. Unfortunately for Quinn, Catwoman was a lot faster and the cat in a mask bounded past Quinn making use of the floor, walls, and obstacles as she went. Quinn made it to the staircase only to find a cat barring her from escaping.
"Going somewhere, Harley?" Catwoman purred. "And the party only just beginning."
"It was just a bit of harmless fun."
"Harmless until someone gets killed," Batman pointed out.
"Okay, okay – I surrender!"
Batman was not having any of it.
"What else did you have planned?"
"Maybe a small bang or two..."
"How long?"
"Two minutes – give or take..."
"You are fucking certifiable!" Catwoman growled. "Fusion, you have less than two minutes before everything goes kaboom!"
Batman and Catwoman rapidly shoved the unfortunate Quinn before them as they ran down the concrete steps.
Fusion
Hit Girl, Kick-Ass, Psyche, Rage, Ravage & Rogue
21:25 GMT-5 (02:25 GMT May 29th)
"Kaboom?"
"It means we need to hurry," Kick-Ass told his eldest daughter.
"Take the kids out of here," Hit Girl directed. "I'll go after the envelope."
"I'm coming with you," Psyche said in a tone which brooked no interference.
Hit Girl ran off with Psyche close behind. Kick-Ass took the remaining kids towards the exit, bolting down the corridor and making them all run as hard and as fast as they could. Nobody stopped until they were out in the open air and fifty yards from the building, close to where they had left their motorcycles. They were soon joined by Batman and Catwoman with their charge.
"You fucking bitch!" Kick-Ass growled.
"Where's Hit Girl and Psyche?" Rogue demanded as she stared at the warehouse.
"Two minutes is up, Harley," Catwoman growled. "Were you serious about explosives?"
"Oh, yeah . . . although, I might have been a little off with the time," Quinn replied as she shook the watch on her left wrist.
"I think she's fucking with us," Batman stated. "There is no..."
KA-BOOM!
The warehouse shuddered for a few moments, clouds of dust blasting out of dozens of windows before the building itself began to implode in on itself.
Hit Girl & Psyche
21:26 GMT-5 (02:26 GMT May 29th)
"You think Quinn was bluffing?"
Hit Girl looked over at Psyche.
"Maybe..."
KA-BOOM!
"Maybe not – RUN!"
Together, the two females ran as fast as they humanly could, even as the warehouse crumbled around them. Brickwork fell amongst billowing clouds of dust. Large baulks of timber thudded to earth just feet from them. Eyes were constantly watching for falling bricks, timber, and concrete. They dodged under, over, and around as they ran for their lives. The billowing clouds of dust soon overhauled them, and the two vigilantes soon found themselves running blind, hoping to break out into safety. Psyche fell as she collided with something at a low level. She found the strong hand of Hit Girl yanking her back to her feet.
"Come on!" Hit Girl pushed.
Psyche pushed harder, running faster, her leg and thigh muscles screaming out for rest. She just kept her legs moving until she was on the verge of collapse. Then, she began to see something other than dust, the cloud was dispersing, or she had reached the edges of it. But she kept running as the sounds of destruction echoed around her. Then she ran into something substantial and she stopped moving.
"Hey! Slow down, sport."
Psyche looked up into the mask of Kick-Ass and she felt intense relief as she allowed her aching muscles to relax. She was outside and the dust cloud was diminishing. She looked around and she saw Hit Girl dusting herself off. Psyche also saw Harley Quinn. That got her steaming and the youngster strode over to the woman who was being held by Catwoman. Psyche brandished the rather dusty brown envelope in Quinn's face.
"We got the bastard envelope, you fucking retarded bitch!"
Then Psyche followed up with a punch directly into the grinning bitch's face. Catwoman released Quinn as the bitch fell to the ground, out cold.
"Hey!" Hit Girl exploded. "I wanted to do that."
"You snooze, you lose!" Psyche shot back.